


Space and Coffee

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: RusAme Oneshots [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there were two things Mars was known for, it was their zealots and their coffee. Alfred Jones’ first memory was of a meeting to petition Earth to include the Mars satellite colonies as American states, and of creamy, warm coffee.</p><p>Alfred had picked up both of these defining characteristics; he was a fierce and loyal lover of Earth America, and he knew how to brew one of the best damn cups of coffee, or your money back. One of the first things he had painted on the counter of his coffee shop was an American flag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space and Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Coffee Shop AU with Alfred as the Clerk Except It’s in Space](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/97706) by kiramekiprince. 



If there were two things Mars was known for, it was their zealots and their coffee. Alfred Jones’ first memory was of a meeting to petition Earth to include the Mars satellite colonies as American states, and of creamy, warm coffee.

Alfred had picked up both of these defining characteristics; he was a fierce and loyal lover of Earth America, and he knew how to brew one of the best damn cups of coffee, or your money back. One of the first things he had painted on the counter of his coffee shop was an American flag.

However, currently, Alfred was of undetermined planetary status—his passport had no home planet to call his own. There was the stamp for the Lunar colony, the ashy one for Mercury, and the silvery one for Europa, but under “Current Planet,” there was only the mark of the I.P.S. Luxury.

When Alfred had first been ferried out to the cruiser, his face had taken up an entire porthole. It was a beautiful ship; huge ports for cargo ships to dock, viewing bay windows, and the engines for artificial gravity. Alfred, quite unconsciously, began to drool.

“Never seen a cruiser?”

Alfred looked over his shoulder. “This one’s _my_ cruiser.” He reluctantly returned to his seat. “You’re pretty tall for being from Europa,” he commented, straining his neck to watch the star cruiser loom in the distance.

“That’s because I’m from Russia,” the man replied, smile turning cold.

The man distracted Alfred, if only for a second. “Dude, “Russia” is scattered around the Solar System—I don’t think you can even call it a cohesive planetary nation anymore.”

There was an awkward silence as the two men stared each other down.

“Has America finally recognized Mars yet? Or are they still pining away, grinding coffee beans and making half-drafted petitions?” The man’s smile was as sharp as ice. “I hope you enjoy the stay on the I.P.S. Luxury.”

Besides the run-in with the “Russian,” Alfred’s transition into the I.P.S Luxury was as easy as it was thrilling. A guide showed him to a small kitchen that was to be his coffee shop, and the small room with a futon that was his room.

“It’s great,” Alfred breathed, dropping his various bags on the floor of the coffee shop. “Is there a way to make the window bigger?”

Staying in space constantly wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Besides the few viewing bays for the guests, the rest of the ship was left with tiny portholes… Not that there was much to see. The stars were blocked out from the light of the ship, and the planets could only be seen when you were practically on top of them. The artificial gravity had Alfred’s back aching. The coffee beans the I.P.S. Luxury provided were terrible, to say the least.

Alfred, perhaps because of his upbringing and the stubbornness beaten into him, was _determined_ to make the arrangement work.

The next market day, Alfred bought as much paint as he could. He set about putting his imagination onto the dull, metal counter of his shop. Soon, entire galaxies had been mapped out over every inch of surface Alfred was allowed. He had stopped looking up star charts and had gone from memory. Supernovas blended into comets blended into dusty, Martian deserts. People began requesting their own flags in addition to Alfred’s American one. The floor surrounding his counter was covered in uneven, messy rows of flags.

Alfred then began to grow his own coffee in the greenhouses; customers who had come for the color now came for the drinks. Soon, instead of just the grunt mechanics and janitors, actual passengers would descend for a cup of morning Joe.  

Everything was going swimmingly—except for the Russian.

“Should have had a professional paint these,” Ivan Braginski, newly appointed captain of the I.P.S., said to Alfred. “One glass of milk, please.”

Alfred, who wasn’t prone to disliking people, hated the captain. Every day, he would come strolling down from the upper levels to order—not a coffee—but a glass of milk. And, each day, he would have some new _smug_ comment.

“I never noticed, but I guess it is true how they say Martians are redder complexion.”

“I didn’t know galaxies could become deserts.”

“This milk tastes a little off.”

“For apparently living in so many different colonies, you do not seem to know much about the other cultures.”

Alfred snapped. “Look, buddy, I’m just here to serve coffee. I’m not here to debate the logistics on Russia or art or—or—Look, I have other customers.”

Ivan hummed thoughtfully, looking down into his glass of milk and swirling it with a straw. “Who would chose to serve coffee to people who are going to the hundreds of different colonies out there? Why do you not go start a coffee shop on—“

This was cutting a little too close to home. “Next!” Alfred called, looking over Ivan’s shoulder at the sanitation worker behind him. Ivan shot him an amused look before strolling away.

“Do you miss your home,” Ivan asked the next day, looking over the rim of his cup as he took a sip. The clever bastard had come when there was a lull in customers.

Alfred adjusted his glasses. “Well, yeah. Who doesn’t miss their home?”

Ivan shrugged and took another sip. “We are returning to Mars after touring around Saturn’s moons. Are you going to visit?”

Alfred threw a rag on the counter top, rubbing it down violently.

After a few moments of silence, Ivan let out another hum. “Did you know Saturn used to have rings? More than just a ghost of them. They used to be the planet’s most noticeable things, instead of the storms.”

Alfred hunched his shoulders before slowly turning around to face Ivan.

“Before the ammonia collectors set up their bases there, people used to visit and ride the winds in little storm ships,” Ivan leaned against the counter, spinning his finger around in a slow circle. “Around and around. The Solar System was a lot less regulated back then.”

Each word was like a spider web, drawing Alfred closer and closer. School had never been a priority on Mars. History books in rural Mars was like fishing in the oceans of Europa; if you found something, it was rare indeed.

Alfred considered Ivan for a moment. “Have you heard anything about the expedition that—“

“My sister is in that expedition. Captain Natalia. She says they’ve stalled for a week or two. She says…” Ivan took a sip from his milk and turned to Alfred, eyes closing as he smiled. “Sorry, am I boring you? I though you did not like me.”

Alfred shot backwards, hitting the far counter and scowling. “You’re an ass.”

“Hee-haw.” Ivan gave a small wave and trotted away.

And so, Alfred began to crave Ivan’s visits. Mostly, it was just smug comments on the milk or the new flags. Occasionally, it was stories about planets and failed colonies. Even rarer still was news about the expedition outside of the known Solar System. Alfred craved it like nothing else.

“They’ve spotted another ship.”

“You’re shitting me,” Alfred yelled, leaning against the counter. He felt very much like an eager puppy—and he did not care one bit. “Is it one of the failed expeditions? Or…? Come on, don’t be all cryptic and quiet, tell me!”

Ivan shrugged, a small smile playing across his mouth. “Why have you been to so many different colonies?”

This again. “Look, my stupid life isn’t nearly as interesting—oh, goddamnit. I dunno’, man. I just…” Alfred took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face and into his hair. “Nothing ever just… Felt right. Nowhere I ever settled down.”

Ivan cocked his head, taking a sip.

“After I left Mars, I went to the Lunar colonies. I set up a little shop, lived with Arth—“ Alfred blinked, cutting himself off quickly. “It was exciting at first: you could see the big ol’ cargo ships going to and from Earth. I used to see America every day, right under me.

“But then… It just wasn’t enough. I dragged… We went to place for place, and then he left, and I didn’t have anything but a few coffee beans and an application for the I.P.S. Luxury so…” Alfred waved his hands. “Here I am. I'm hoping somewhere we'll visit will, you know, _call_ to me. But... Well...” The barista ran a hand over his counter top, smiling fondly.

 “It’s a foreign ship.”

And Ivan walked away.


End file.
